


dig a brand new garden spot

by isthismydesign



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, But still sad, Gardens & Gardening, This was supposed to be crack, Will Graham Helps Himself, it got sad, mentions of drugs/medications, no beta we die like men, self care tm, sorry about that, will graham is a vegan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27779581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isthismydesign/pseuds/isthismydesign
Summary: I tweeted the concept of Will being a vegan after BSHCI as a joke, it’s not my fault that Abbie wanted it to be real. It is my fault that this got sad and serious kinda though.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 18
Kudos: 137





	dig a brand new garden spot

Dig a little  
Dig a lot  
Dig a brand new garden spot

Plant a little  
Plant a lot  
Plant the seeds and bulbs you bought

Wait a little  
Wait a lot  
Wait much longer than you thought

Pick a little  
Pick a lot  
Share the best bouquet you've got!

Dig In by George Shannon

Being released from Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane brought a lot of changes into Will Graham's life. The only good thing that came from his time at BSHCI was Dr Chilton pointing out how bad he was at taking care of himself. It wasn’t exactly news to him, but when he was able to compare his time before BSHCI and the stability and routine it brought, he had to admit that Chilton was right. 

So when Will got the opportunity to start fresh, he did exactly that. 

He told Jack that under no circumstances would he consult on cases, he would stick with his teaching job. Jack fought him, but eventually realized that this new version of Will Graham would not be as easily coerced or persuaded than his pre-asylum counterpart. 

He collected his dogs from Alana, then politely told her that she was unwelcome at his home. Even Will could smell Hannibal on her mid-afternoon. She was clearly shocked, but had more sense than Jack and didn't protest. 

He made some diet changes. Cut out caffeine and alcohol. He allowed himself to smoke with the promise to quit whenever he started exercising. Cut out dairy, meat, and most missed, fish. Promised himself that as soon as he could look at his hooks and baits again he would go fishing, but for now he couldn't do it. He went to a local farmers market and bought fresh food, taking comfort that he knew where it all came from.

He selected a medium sized patch behind his house and planted a garden. Tomatoes, zucchini, cauliflower, lettuce, you name it. He couldn't stand the thought of going to a restaurant again, even though he had never taken him to one. Will felt compelled to oversee the entire farm to table process himself. The dogs learned quickly not to dig around. 

He ripped apart his house. Threw most of his clothes out and gave away almost all of his furniture. Gutted the kitchen and moved his bed upstairs. Winston followed him up to bed every night, and every other night another joined them. 

He got his hair cut and styled. Bought new clothes, some work ones but mostly nice ones. Nothing so nice or designer that Hannibal would wear himself. 

He installed a security camera at his mailbox and front door, inconspicuous but anyone looking for it would notice it. Dreaded the day that Hannibal would steer his privileged Bentley into the driveway. 

Will went to work every day, taught his classes from nine to five, took an hour break at noon to eat lunches that he made and smoke a cigarette. At night he came home to do some work on the house and take the dogs out. He read fiction, si-fi and fantasy and nothing that reminded him of anything else. 

He would text his father and smoke a cigarette. It pleased him to think about how much the habit would horrify Hannibal. His eating habits would horrify him too, which is part of the reason why Will makes sure to eat consistently. 

He graded papers and dodged Alana in the halls. Ignored Jack's constant pleas to consult on _just this one case._ He was stiff but polite the one instance where Price and Zeller came to his class to welcome him back and apologize, why do they have to go everywhere together? 

After a blissful month of peace and quiet, his phone buzzed. No one besides his father texts him, and Will is always the one to text first. It's a Thursday night too, his father will be playing poker with his buddies. 

_One New Message: Hannibal Lecter_

Will sighs, the kind that summons Winston almost as quick as a whistle. He absently pats Winston's head as he opens the message.

_I have a 24 hour cancellation policy, Will. I have given you space to settle back into your life but I feel it would benefit you to discuss your emotions with me. From what I've heard you have made quite a few changes that would make for lovely discussion._

Will addressed a number of issues that had plagued his life prior to his incarceration. But he's done his best to avoid thinking too hard or too long about Dr Lecter. Pain, rage, and uncontainable sadness threaten to constantly overwhelm him at the faintest reminder of Hannibal. Were they friends? Colleagues? Acquaintances? Something else entirely? He's not sure which thought hurts more. The idea that they were friends and Hannibal still did this to him despite caring, or never caring for him in the first place. 

He wants a drink. He wants to scream and cry, both indulgences he is yet to allow himself. He takes a deep breath instead and begins to type. 

_Clear my weekly slot for any of your patients. I'm not in the mood to spend any amount of time with you. Before you ask, it will be a very long time before I willingly see you for even a moment. Text me again and I'll get a new number._

He knows he's being rude, but what is Hannibal going to do about it? Frame him for five murders? Kill him? Doubtful. Will puts the text out of his mind as he installs the new cabinets into the kitchen. 

Will, true to his word, stops smoking the next week when he begins taking the dogs out for hikes around Wolf Trap. He renews his prescriptions and is rewarded by a weaker dose of several of his meds. Jack has stoped calling and he sees less of Alana at Quantico. 

The plants start sprouting after about six weeks. Will has started sleeping through the night, and it's miraculous how much a good night of sleep helps. His students are doing even better than normal, a subconscious response to a happier and healthier teacher. Will has started making the effort to engage them for a few minutes before and after class, and the students are better for it. 

Will has become a regular at the farmer's market. He charms the women without even meaning to and eventually warms up to the small talk that everyone seems to partake in. There's an older man that sells honey who reminds Will so much of his father that he starts calling Beau Graham once a week, on Mondays. Beau grumbles about it but Will knows they have missed each other equally. 

His dogs are happier, he can tell. It makes him happy. Happiness is still a relatively foreign concept to him, but he's learning to recognize things that please him. His morning runs with the dogs exhaust him and make him sore for the rest of the day, but he enjoys the way it strains his lungs and leaves a dull ache in his legs. As the aches fade with each passing day he starts running harder or farther, delighting in the way his dogs plop exhausted on the floor when they get home. 

His calls with Beau get a little longer every week, and it almost makes him morn the years they spent with minimal contact. But he remembers that his father isn't going anywhere, he never was, and they have all the time in the world.

The plants are growing well, Will wasn't sure if he was doing it right. Several plants are flowering and he thinks about what flowers might look good in front of the house in the coming spring. Twice a week he waters what needs watering and pulls out weeds, marveling at how much can invade the ground in a matter of days. He takes a visceral pleasure at ripping out unwanted plants and he doesn't really care to analyze why. 

Chilton calls him once or twice, and for some reason Will finds himself answering. He really is just calling to check in and sometimes fret over what Hannibal has planned, but Will always changes the subject before either one of them gets too upset. It almost annoys him how much it helps to have Chilton bring up Hannibal every now and then. Will has accepted his own anger and bitterness over what happened. It doesn't dull, but room has been made for a truly annoying emotion. Loneliness. For everything that Hannibal has done to him, Will still manages to miss the man. He doesn't miss him enough to seek him out, and he appreciates that Hannibal has respected his wishes and hasn't contacted him again. It must be killing Hannibal to allow Will the last word on the subject, and he wonders why Hannibal let it happen. 

The weeks are blending into months, and Christmas passes without much fuss. Beau calls him that evening, as Will is pouring himself his first glass of whiskey in almost a year. Hannibal hated whiskey, preferring wine or an occasional glass of beer or scotch. Jack Daniel's reminds Will of his father, and he is grateful that this association could remain intact with everything that has happened to him. He doesn't mention this thought to Beau, but he remarks that he's missed the taste. They talk for a long time. Beau tells him stories about spectacular poker hands he's had and crazy clients and their boat issues. Will in kind talks about the dogs and his garden. They both complain about their house renovation issues. 

The sun has long since set and Will is leaning on the porch, pouring himself another glass of whiskey when Beau interrupts the comfortable silence that's fallen. "I'm proud of you, boy. Don't think I've said it in a while, but I am. You’ve come a long way these past few months, don’t even need to tell me something’s happened in your life ‘cause I can tell. I hope you’re happier now than you were back then. Are you happy, son?”

It takes a lot for Beau Graham to say things like that. Will knows his father loves him, but it’s always something special when he manages to get those words out. But Will realizes that his father is right, as he so often is. He has made progress. He is, as a matter of fact, happy for the first time since he moved away for college. He tells his father as much, and revels in the proud silence that he receives. 

He throws the rest of his drink back and gathers the bottle to head inside. “Time for me to hit the hay,” he tells his father, taking note of how some of his southern drawl has returned from the alcohol. “Merry Christmas, Daddy.”

He hears the flick of a lighter as his father lights a cigarette. “Merry Christmas, boy.” 

Will sleeps without dreaming that night. 

Six months after he was released, to the day he was certain, Hannibal Lecter knocked on his door. It was Sunday morning, and Will knew if it wasn’t his six month anniversary then Hannibal never would have bothered him on a Sunday. Will was grateful that his cameras had warned him. 

Will opened the door before Hannibal had a chance to knock. He seemed faintly surprised, but schooled his features into something akin to happiness. “Hello Will.”

It had been months since Will had heard Hannibal say his name, and a rush of emotions almost took his breath away. “Come in Dr Lecter.” He opened the door to allow Hannibal entry and tried not to be insulted that the dogs greeted Hannibal almost as enthusiastically as they had him.

Hannibal studied the living room as Will moved some engine parts to make room for them to sit. A lot had changed in this room alone since Hannibal’s last visit. The bed and nightstand were upstairs, there was a fresh coat of forest green paint on the walls, and the piano had been moved to a center position. Will had started playing again, and was in the middle of restringing it. 

_Just keep breathing._

“I’d offer you something to eat or drink, but you wouldn’t appreciate anything I have to offer.” 

Hannibal’s gaze moved from the piano to Will’s face, still studying. Will felt his eyes like a physical weight on his shoulders. “And why do you assume that?”

Will huffs a laugh. “I’m vegan,” Now Hannibal looks surprised. Will barrels on. “No meat, no dairy, nothing of the sort. I gave up caffeine, I’m not drinking, not that you would drink at ten-thirty on a Sunday morning.” Will did have the bottle of Jack Daniel’s in the kitchen. Never mind that he was thinking about getting a few chickens and start eating dairy again soon. Hannibal didn’t need to know, didn’t deserve to know. He waived that right when he called Jack Crawford in this house almost a year ago. 

Hannibal took a seat in a leather chair that Will only bought for company. He knew it was on purpose so that Will could tuck himself in a cozy armchair by the fireplace. Hannibal pursed his lips as Will dropped into the chair and drape his legs over one of the arms. Will shot him a smug smile in response, pleased at how easy it was to annoy his guest. 

“What are doing here Dr Lecter? Surely I was clear that I don’t exactly feel like welcoming you with open arms anytime soon.” Several dogs plopped themselves at Will’s feet, and Will privately thought that he looked like a cartoon villain, but as a dog person. 

Hannibal took a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking. “I came to see how you were doing. I thought that enough time had passed that we could begin making amends for transgressions.”

Neither Will or the dogs looked particularly impressed. “Oh sure, enough time has passed that I’d forgive the man I falsely accused of framing me for five murders and being the most sougt after serial killer at large. But I didn’t falsely accuse you of anything did I?”

Hannibal opened his mouth to refute, but Will beat him to it. “Come now, Dr Lecter,” Will’s voice was soft, lacking any venom that had been present in the conversation earlier. He thanked God his voice didn’t shake. “There’s no camera’s, none recording anyway,  
no jury or Jack Crawford. No psychiatrists or reporters to profess my innocence to. You and I are the only living people to know what we do, don’t do me the disservice of playing innocent. You’ll only look more like an asshole than you already do.” 

Hannibal actually looked insulted at that, but Will couldn’t bring himself to care. “How am I? I’m in pain, constantly. I’m on a dozen medications that are the opposite of side effect free, and my shoulder aches every time a storm comes through. I’ve lost every friend and coworker I was on good terms with. But I’m healing. Without you. I’m sleeping through the night and sometimes my dreams are empty. I’m eating well, for all of my lack of meat, and I exercise every day. I’m not looking at gruesome murders, I’m putting effort into my students and it’s paying off. Chilton has helped me more than you ever have, and we’ve only spoken a handful of times. My garden is growing well and my father texts me every day. My life has been irrevocably destroyed but I am building it again better and stronger than it was before. And it is blessedly free of manipulative psychiatrists and living serial killers. At the end of the day I sit on my porch with my dogs and call my father, and I’m happy. And I don’t fucking care to analyze why I feel the way I do. I’m not going to play any more mental chess games with you Hannibal. If you have something to say to me say it honestly, otherwise you can get out of my house.” 

Will felt dizzy, the entire house was spinning and his vision was tunneled on Hannibal. Will didn’t know what it was, six months without him or the verbal lashing Will had just delivered. But Hannibal looked... sad, if he was capable of the emotion. 

After several minutes Hannibal rose from his chair. Will followed suit on shaking legs. Hannibal opened the door to leave and just as Will wondered if he would say nothing, he turned and made eye contact with Will. His eyes were so dark, brown almost to the point of black and Will felt like he was drowning. Drowning in the tears that threatened to spill down Hannibal’s angular hollow cheeks. 

“For what it is worth Will,” Hannibal all but whispered, “I’m sorry.” 

The screen door closed behind him and a few moments later Will heard the sound of Hannibal’s car pulling out of the driveway. Will stood there, in the middle of his living room. It might have been a few minutes, it might have been hours. The silence stretched for miles, until it was broken by the sound of Will’s sobs, finally breaking free.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you’re happy Abbie. I wrote this on my phone at like 1 am.


End file.
